


Patience (Wearing Thin)

by Nux



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Excessive smoking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mild Face-Fucking, Overthinking, Porn with Feelings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nux/pseuds/Nux
Summary: 1990; Izzy wants to leave the band and Axl doesn’t want him to, too scared to be alone and without the only other person he’s ever trusted except for himself. In fact, Axl’s so hellbent on wanting Izzy to stay he’ll do anything—anything—for Izzy.Izzy doesn’t trust that and he pushes and prods just to see how far he can go.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Patience (Wearing Thin)

**Author's Note:**

> Please head the warnings and if it's not your cup of tea, then click back, please take care of yourself ♥!
> 
> And, a big thank you and shoutout to [Cera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiiKitsune) for being my beta, without you this wouldn't have been possible!

Axl Rose doesn’t beg.

_ Ever. _

Which is why it’s so fucking funny and bizarre to have Axl on his knees doing just that; begging. There’s a moment in which Izzy wonders if he might have passed out, if maybe after they got back from the club he just passed the fuck out and that this—Axl begging—is just a weird, drunken dream.

“Don’t fucking leave me, Izz,” Axl says, his voice breaking through the silence again. “Please.”

_ Please. _

Izzy can’t even remember when he last heard Axl say  _ please.  _ He remembers though, slowly but surely, why Axl is begging; why he’s currently down on his knees on the carpet in a worse for wear looking hotel room, more desperate than Izzy has ever seen him before. Maybe back when they still lived in Lafayette and Axl had been desperate—anxious—to leave and get away from that hellhole. 

He remembers why Axl’s begging now, though. 

“I'm tired,” Izzy says. A sigh escapes him too, and he  _ is _ tired.  _ So _ fucking tired. He takes another slow drag of his cigarette and then blows the smoke into the air and watches it cloud around them heavily, polluting the air further. He can’t help but sigh again and then he continues: “I’m tired and it’s not fun anymore.”

“We can make it fun again. Like it used to be.”

Izzy has half a brain not to laugh at the comment. He does shake his head though and sinks just a little further into the couch he’s sitting on until the springs creak, protesting loudly. He doesn’t bother letting up. He's been keeping this in for too long now and he knows he can’t keep it in anymore;  _ can’t  _ keep living like this. 

“Izz…” Axl tries again, still on his knees and for a moment Izzy can’t help but think it’s a pretty sight. Pretty and bizarre and everything in between. 

His patience is wearing thin, however. He’s tired. Tired of touring, tired of cutting shows, tired of fighting, tired of the fact that they’re being torn apart, not just as a band but as friends  _ too _ . So, he shakes his head again because this time he really  _ is  _ done with things. He reaches out, blindly, and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray where it balances precariously on the armrest of the couch. The action doesn’t dispel any of the smoke lingering in the air though and Izzy can’t help but think it’s fitting the situation—their little back and forth—the way it wraps around them and clings to every fibre of his being and weighs him down further. 

“I’m done, Axl. it’s...you can’t make me change my mind on this. There’s nothing you can do or say, I've already decided,” Izzy says and he thinks that his voice sounds tired even to himself. He looks down at Axl and he had expected anger to reflect in those blue eyes but what he sees is nothing. Just nothing. Axl is looking back up at him, gaze vacant and lips slightly parted; as if he can’t quite believe what Izzy’s just said. 

Part of Izzy wants to say he can’t believe himself either.

Izzy looks away. He fixes his gaze on the ceiling and pretends it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen despite it being white-beige and dull and with a few suspicious spots here and there.

“Nothing?” Axl asks and Izzy hears the slight tremble in the two syllable word. Hopefulness, he thinks. That's what he hears. 

“Nothing,” Izzy repeats. 

He makes the mistake of looking back down again because for a few seconds, when he meets Axl’s gaze his resolve breaks just a little; a slight crack in the wall he’s put up for his own sake. He makes the mistake of reaching out too, pushing his hand through Axl’s hair, slowly carding through long, soft tresses. 

There  _ was  _ a time when Axl could’ve done something to change his mind. 

“So…you’re just going to leave me. Leave us, I mean.” 

Izzy blinks slowly. He stills his hands in Axl’s hair for a second and instead tugs on a few strands, not too hard but hard enough for Axl to  _ feel _ it. To let him know he’s treading dangerous waters with comments like that.

“Yeah. Seems like it,” Izzy says and he thanks all the painful, lonely moments for how easy it is to sound nonchalant, like nothing ever bothers him. 

He resumes the motion of carding his fingers through Axl’s hair, slow and gentle. With the way Axl’s still on the ground Izzy can’t help but think that it’s like petting a dog. A dog who’s eager to please; eager to be close to its master. The thought is just as bizarre as Axl being on his knees for someone and showing his vulnerable side. 

Shaking his head and trying to rid himself of the thought, Izzy looks away from Axl and towards one of the big, ceiling to floor windows that looks oddly malplaced somehow. The curtains are pulled wide open and they’ve got a great view of the city spreading out around them; all the dazzling city lights and spectacular buildings and the nameless people living in them. There must be a window open somewhere because the curtains keep swaying ever so slightly as if there’s a breeze tugging on them gently. Maybe it’s just the air conditioner, Izzy thinks. 

“You know,” Axl speaks up again and Izzy tears his gaze away from the window and the view to look down at Axl. “I really would do fucking  _ anything  _ for you to stay.”

It’s Izzy’s turn to ask, “anything?” 

“Yeah.”

He pulls his hand away from Axl’s hair to rummage through his jacket, fishing out another cigarette and his lighter, needing to busy himself with something. 

“Humour me,” Izzy says just as the sparks fly and the lighter gives off a small flame. He lights his cigarette with well practiced ease and brings it to his lips like it’s second nature. It might as well be. “Tell me what you’d do for me to stay.”

And then the room falls silent. As silent as a hotel room on the 14th floor with too many noisy neighbours can be, at least. 

For a while, Izzy thinks Axl’s not going to say anything but the ball is in Axl's court now so he sits still and waits, like usual, for any kind of breadcrumbs Axl will throw at him. They’ve been through this before; Izzy knows what’s coming. 

(Except that he doesn’t.)

“I'd beg,” Axl says and it makes Izzy let out a low, amused huff along with a cloud of smoke. He watches the way it further darkens the room, everything going just a little more dim and hazy. 

“You already are and it’s not changing my mind.” 

Axl glares up at him, something fiery and electric in his eyes before it’s gone and replaced with something softer. Something unexplainable and vulnerable. 

“I'd  _ beg _ ,” Axl repeats and Izzy just arches his eyebrows, curiously eying the other. “I’d beg, anywhere—any way—you’d want me.”

Izzy stills. He stares down at Axl and wonders if he really meant it like  _ that _ ; if he meant for it to sound like there’s something more to those words. It could be a trick, he reminds himself, could be Axl doing something fucked up because he knows it might just work. He doesn’t say anything though, instead busies himself with his cigarette and focuses on it; focuses on the embers glowing and the smoke slowly filling up the room second by slow second until it feels near suffocating. 

“Would even embarrass myself for you, Izz.”

Izzy rolls his eyes and huffs again. He exhales some more smoke and then reaches out for the ashtray to ash his cigarette before bringing it back to his lips. He  _ knows  _ Axl’s not serious with a comment like that. 

“Yeah? Sounds like a fucking joke.”

“‘s not. Would do anything you’d asked me to do.”

And just like that, Izzy’s patience is back to being paper thin again. He frowns and lifts his free hand to rub at his temple slowly, trying to massage away the oncoming headache because dealing with Axl fucking Rose is always a recipe for headache. 

“No, you wouldn’t.”

And this time Axl laughs, all soft and small, Izzy thinks and he looks down at the redhead, momentarily intrigued. 

“Now  _ you  _ humour me. Tell me to do something and I will.”

Izzy arches both his eyebrows. He thinks for a second and looks towards the big windows again, cigarette slowly being forgotten until it burns his fingertips and nearly falls down on the couch next to him. He stubs it out, the ashtray quickly getting overcrowded. “Alright,” he says and thinks he’s come up with something embarrassing to do for Axl to prove himself. “Go to the window and yell that you love me. Want the whole damn city to hear Axl Rose yell  _ I love Izzy Stradlin,  _ ‘kay?”

Axl gets up from the floor without a hitch; without even an ounce of hesitation. He gets to one of the windows that’s fitted with a latch and that you  _ can  _ open and Izzy watches as the smoke that’s built up in the room slowly seeps out through the window. Suddenly, for a few seconds, everything feels just a little clearer. A little less dark and grimy. He watches as Axl leans out through the window and then really  _ does _ as he’s told and yells those four words at the top of his lungs. It’s loud enough Izzy hears the words keep echoing back and forth within the four walls of his hotel room for a few seconds, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, things are salvageable. 

Maybe. 

Axl even screams loud enough for one of the neighbours to start pounding angrily at the shared wall and for a moment, Izzy can’t help but smile. For a little while, it feels like they’re back in Lafayette; back to being dumb teenagers and fucking around doing dumb shit without a care in the world. 

“Anything else?” Axl asks once he turns around. He leaves the window open and the curtain flaps a little in the cool breeze that finds its way into the room. 

Izzy shrugs. He remembers they’re not dumb teenagers; remembers they’re not in Lafayette anymore. Turning his head a little he starts looking for a third cigarette instead. He ignores the way his left leg has started to bounce just a little, the dull grey carpet under his feet muffling the sound. He feels cold where Axl's no longer leaning against him like he had been before when he knelt by his feet but he wouldn’t ever tell the other that. 

_ Anything else? _

Izzy thinks about the words as he lights his new cigarette, thinks about the way Axl's looking at him where he’s still standing by the window, thinks about the view behind him and the sound of honking cars finding its way up here somehow. 

_ I'd do anything for you. _

Izzy takes a long drag of his cigarette. His leg is still bouncing. The room is mostly quiet again and for a little while it’s comfortable and nice. 

_ I’d beg anywhere—any way—you’d want me. _

He breathes out again and then, finally, looks away from Axl and the window. His free hand falls to his lap and he starts rubbing at his jeans like that would somehow rid him of the jumpy nerves slowly engulfing him. 

_ Please. _

Izzy tips his head back. Axl still hasn’t said a word and when he glances towards the side, he can tell the redhead hasn’t left his spot by the window either. He breathes in deeply through his nose this time then rids himself of some of the excess ash before looking back up at the ceiling again. It’s still not interesting and the weird, dark spots are still just as scary and concerning as they were before. 

_ Would do anything you’d ask me to do. _

Izzy knows Axl wouldn’t, which is why he slowly nods down towards the vacant spot between his still spread wide thighs. “Sit,” he says and again, his voice sounds  _ tired _ , even to his own ears. 

Axl comes closer and, just like before, he kneels down. Izzy almost laughs at the sight; almost pushes Axl away altogether because it’s  _ that  _ fucking bizarre. (He doesn’t laugh though, but he does break out in a slight grin that makes him bite the inside of his cheek in an effort to tamper it down.)

“Beg me then,” he says, curiously wondering if Axl really  _ would _ . “Beg me like all those girls would beg you to be fucked.”

Izzy knows he’s playing with fire here; knows it because he sees something sharp flash across Axl’s features before it’s gone. Despite that, he can’t help but to want to push  _ more.  _ Wants to push and prod curiously to see just how much Axl would take before he’s had enough. 

Axl looks down—and Izzy sees the way he swallows down what he could only guess would’ve been an insult—and then there’s warm hands coming up to hold his shins, as if Axl’s using him to ground himself.

“Don’t leave me, Izz. I need you—“

Izzy raises one eyebrow and cocks his head to the side before cutting in: “Nope. You can do better than that.”

“ _ Fine, _ I want you, okay? Can’t fucking do this shit without you. I  _ need  _ you.”

“Still not good enough.” Izzy can tell Axl’s fuming and trying to hold back from getting angry, can tell, because there’s fingertips digging into his shins harshly. He thinks, as silence falls around them, that Axl’s going to get up and go back to his own room but then, to his surprise, Axl looks up and meets his gaze and stares right at him. Right  _ through  _ him. 

“I need you. Like, so  _ fucking  _ bad, and I love you, Izz. I do. I’d do fucking anything for you to stay and I swear I’ll be so good for you—always—if you’d just stay by my side, I’d, damn—“ the hands on his shins move up slowly and the warmth spreads as Axl goes. “—I’d even suck you off to show you how bad I need you to stay.” 

That sentence, the last part rings through Izzy's ears and he cocks his head to the side slowly and eyes Axl curiously. 

“You’d suck me off?”

“If it meant you wouldn’t leave me.”

He sucks in a deep breath and watches his cigarette as the embers chase down it quickly. 

“Told you I’d do fucking anything,” Axl says and Izzy, again, thinks that it’s so fucking _bizarre_. He bites at the inside of his cheek again until the dull, aching pain comes with the action. 

“Then do it,” Izzy says, deciding he won’t trust Axl until it actually  _ happens.  _

At first, Axl’s touch is slow and tentative as if trying to test the waters. Izzy watches intently at how pale hands slowly creep up his jeans and then still on his thighs and he thinks that the touch is warmer and heavier than any girl's hands have ever been. Just  _ more, _ somehow. 

Maybe because it’s Axl, a lone brain cell supplies. Izzy pays it no attention; ignores it in favour of focusing on Axl’s warm, heavy palms slowly moving up his thighs until they reach the zipper of his jeans. He’s still—mostly—soft under the layer of denim but Axl doesn’t seem bothered by the fact at all.

“Have you done this before?” Izzy hears himself ask. He tips his head to the side curiously and takes another slow drag of his cigarette. In front of him Axl pauses again. 

“...Once.”

“Do I…” Izzy pauses too. He shifts a little on the couch and, despite his jeans still constricting him, he spreads his legs a little further. “Do I know ‘em?”

He doesn't miss the way Axl ducks his head down, a tell-tale sign that Izzy most certainly  _ does  _ know whoever it is he’s sucked off. He doesn’t allow himself to try and think who it could be. (Despite desperately  _ wanting  _ to know.)

“You don’t,” Axl replies though, his voice almost small.

Izzy doesn’t push for more and Axl doesn’t say anything else. In the silence that follows, Izzy instead focuses on the warm hands still splayed across his thighs; focuses on the sound of Axl fiddling with the zipper on his jeans as if he’s hesitating. As if he’s having second thoughts. Izzy thinks he wouldn’t blame Axl, he would be disappointed for sure but he knows what the redhead is like, knows all the weird—twisted—little thoughts and ideas that bounce around in that brain of his. 

_ But Axl’s sucked dick before,  _ the very same, lone brain cell from before supplies and the thought hits him almost like a freight train. Axl Rose has sucked someone’s dick and it’s not  _ his.  _ And now that Izzy’s thinking about it, he’s not sure  _ he’s _ ever been with a guy before. He's gotten his dick sucked plenty of times but it’s all been girls. Girls with long, soft hair; smooth and supple skin. Axl is none of that, Izzy thinks as he glances down. He takes another long drag of his cigarette and then, just like before, he lets his hand fall down to Axl’s hair to comb through the long tresses. That's the only similarity Axl shares with girls, the rest of him clearly being the opposite. His shoulders are wide and squared; he’s rough and his voice is deep enough to rattle the bones in Izzy’s body sometimes. 

_ Bizarre _ , he thinks as he pushes a few straying strands of red hair back. He's surprised Axl lets him do it, surprised the other man hasn’t gotten up and flipped him off yet.

Or worse. Thrown him out through the still open window. 

“Close your eyes, Izz. Can’t fucking do this with you staring at me like that, man—“

Izzy frowns. He blinks once and then twice before he shifts and moves one leg ever so slowly; his still booted foot coming up to rest on Axl’s thigh where he’s kneeling on the floor. He presses the heel of his shoe down just a little, adding some pressure in a silent warning. “You’re the one who said you’d do it so quit complainin’. You  _ know  _ what happens otherwise.”

“Yeah, but—“

Izzy ashes his cigarette and with the hand still in Axl’s hair, he tugs sharply on a few strands until he gets a low, pained growl in reply. “No fucking buts, man. ‘told you I’m tired, ‘told you I’d leave, and I  _ will _ .”

“That’s—fuck you, Izzy—“ Axl says in a low and irritated voice. Like  _ he’s  _ the one in a difficult situation. It’s laughable but Izzy doesn’t laugh, he just tugs a little on Axl’s hair again until the action draws another growl from Axl’s throat. Deep down, Izzy knows he should feel bad about practically forcing Axl but for some reason he just  _ can't.  _ He's way past that now. Way too curious. 

“No, fuck  _ you, _ Axl,” he says and the three words set Axl working and the warmth that had spread across Izzy’s thighs disappears for a few seconds before it’s back again and this time it’s Axl practically draping himself over his lap. He watches, in amazement, as the redhead tugs at his jeans again and he can’t help but to grin slightly when he hears Axl’s surprise at the lack of underwear. 

He’s still soft. Axl still doesn’t seem to care about it as he reaches out and wraps his hand around his cock. The touch is warm and rough and soft all at once, and he slowly tips his head back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. He feels Axl move in his lap; move under the boot still resting on his thigh and digging into the muscle. He breathes out softly through his nose and then, the second he feels something warm and wet against the tip of his cock he closes his eyes and lets out a low, encouraging hum.

He keeps a groan in but he can’t help but bury his fingers just a little deeper in Axl’s hair; can’t help but thoughtlessly tug just a little more harshly on the silky soft strands, urging Axl to come closer, to take  _ more _ . 

To his surprise, Axl obeys. The warmth and wetness wraps around him and it forces a surprised, choked off sound from him. Ten seconds ago he was still soft but now, with Axl’s lips wrapped tightly around him, Izzy realises he’s filling out quickly—realises the blood is rushing south so quickly he’s feeling lightheaded—and he allows a groan to slip past his lips. 

For someone who’s only sucked cock once, Axl really seems to know what he’s doing.

“Fuck,  _ Ax _ —“ Izzy hears himself breath loudly. Axl doesn’t say anything, just shifts on the floor and hollows his cheeks some more. “You’re a damn liar, aren’t you— _ fuck _ —you’ve done this more than once before,” he continues, voice dropping just an octave. 

To his surprise—and disappointment—Axl chooses that moment to pull back; pops his cock like he was sucking a damn lollipop and the sound is obscene in the still and quiet of the hotel room. 

“Maybe,” Axl offers cryptically and the word rings in Izzy's ears. 

_ Maybe _ . 

“Liar,” Izzy says. He desperately denies himself to think about it—about Axl offering blow jobs to keep people around him happy—and tugs on Axl’s hair again instead, urging him to get back to business. 

Axl dives down without a hitch, just like when Izzy had asked him to yell through the window, and the action makes goosebumps rise across Izzy’s skin; something about it stroking his ego and making satisfaction bubble low in his gut at how  _ easy _ Axl is. How he’s so easy and...

For a brief moment he can’t help but think that he should’ve asked Axl to do this ages ago.

Swearing under his breath again, Izzy’s made aware of the cigarette still burning down low and hanging dangerously from between his fingers. He more or less throws it towards the ashtray rather than stubbing it out carefully, too occupied with Axl’s lips wrapping around his cock and sucking him down, all the way down, down, down until there’s a nose pressing against his abdomen and burying itself in the dark, coarse curls around the base of his cock. The realisation that Axl’s just taken  _ all  _ of him tugs a groan from Izzy and he tightens his fingers in soft, red tresses almost harshly to urge the other closer. In reply, Axl hums around his cock and it takes all of Izzy’s self control to  _ not _ force both his hands into Axl’s hair and fuck his face the way he  _ wants  _ to. 

“ _ Fuck _ —“ he groans heatedly again and instead settles on squeezing his eyes shut and spread his thighs just a little wider. “‘Knew you could do wicked things with your mouth, Ax, but fuck—“

There’s a muffled sound escaping Axl in return and the vibrations of his protest has Izzy's hips jerk off the couch. Axl doesn’t seem to mind and he does it again and then again; pushes his hips up just shy of fucking Axl’s face. Maybe, he thinks, as the warmth and pleasant feeling of relief starts building and spreading under his skin like an electric hum, maybe he could stick around for Axl. Just for a little while longer. 

Axl groans around him again and he pulls all the way off, his tongue dragging sinfully along the underside of Izzy’s cock and the sensation sends shivers and small electrifying sparks running down his spine and nerve ends.

_ It feels too fucking good.  _

Despite wanting nothing more than to let his head lay back against the couch, Izzy gathers enough strength to gaze down at Axl and he sucks in a deep breath the moment his eyes lands on the redhead and takes in the sight of him; he looks absolutely debauched. There's smudges of kohl underneath his eyes and his lips are shiny with spit and pre-cum. Part of Izzy wishes he could take a photograph—or film it maybe—just so he could have a part of this moment last forever. He can’t do that though, so he does his best to engrave it to his memory. 

Axl peers up at him from underneath his messy bangs. His eyes are hazy, just a little glassy too and Izzy relents some of the iron grip he’s had on Axl’s hair in favour of brushing his sweaty bangs away from where they’re sticking to his forehead. 

Izzy doesn’t know why Axl’s stopped though, and the confusion must be evident on his face because Axl grins up at him and then leans forward again just so he can press a closed mouth kiss to the tip of Izzy’s cock and then blows on it cheekily; it jerks at the stimulation pitifully and, without thinking, Izzy tugs on Axl’s hair again. 

“I’d do anything for you to stay, Izz,” Axl says and it’s hard to ignore how rough and deep his voice sounds, absolutely  _ fucked  _ in a way it can only get after a good night. 

“Yeah?” He looks down to Axl’s lips again, eyes the soft, plush and spit-slicked skin. He pushes down the urge to lean down and kiss the redhead and instead forces his gaze back up to stare Axl down. “‘You’d swallow my cum too?” Izzy continues and he cocks his head to the side, arching his eyebrows curiously; figures  _ this  _ is where Axl’s going to draw the line. Figures this is it. To his surprise, Axl simply parts his lips and sticks his tongue out. 

“You’re fucking sinful,” Izzy groans. He can’t fucking believe Axl.  _ Bizarre _ , his brain suggests again and he agrees; bizarre. 

This time it’s Izzy who reaches down to wrap his hand around his own cock and he jerks himself off to the thought of what had just been, Axl’s plush lips wrapped around his cock and swallowing him down. He jerks off, thinking about what  _ could’ve  _ been; thinks about what else he could’ve made Axl do if he had only been braver. 

He jerks off and once the heat starts building again, and once his vision starts to grow blurry and hazy at the edges, Izzy reaches out and grabs Axl by his jaw to keep him in his place and then—way too soon for his own liking—he topples over the edge and comes in thick spurts, coating Axl’s waiting tongue and jaw. 

If Izzy had thought Axl had looked sinful and debauched before, then this is fucking  _ it _ . 

“Swallow,” he says, and then he watches as Axl does as he’s told. He even opens his fucking mouth to show it’s empty and it sends another shiver running down Izzy’s spine and he groans loudly. He wishes refraction time wasn’t a thing; wishes he could push Axl down on the carpet and make him do all those sinful things all over again. Dropping his head back on the couch again, Izzy doesn’t even bother tucking himself back into his jeans. He wipes himself off on the couch, not really caring about the stains he’ll leave and then he tries to focus on the gentle, cool breeze still finding its way into the room from the open window. 

“So…” Axl starts and Izzy knows what’s coming next but he still can’t really focus because Axl sounds just as wrecked and debauched as he had looked with a mouthful of come.  _ His  _ come, his brain supplies quickly. Still thinking about the way Axl had swallowed it down with such an ease it might as well have been a treat. “...you’ll stay with me? With us?”

“...yeah. I’ll stay,” Izzy hears himself say because after what Axl’s just done he can’t bring himself to leave. 

At least not this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first GnR fic actually and I had really fun writing this one (∩˙▿˙∩)
> 
> You can find me on twitter: [Nux](https://twitter.com/nuxtheeggplant)  
> And on tumblr: [Nux](https://nuxx.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for reading and please leave a comment if you liked it! ♥


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